


Hate Me

by Doodlelolly0910



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Accidental Death, Break Up, Character Death, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, F/M, Post-Break Up, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 13:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17899385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodlelolly0910/pseuds/Doodlelolly0910
Summary: A/N: So I totally know I’m behind on posting other things and that you guys are waiting on updates but the thing is I haven’t been able to write literally anything for going on three weeks now. This hit me from out of nowhere and demanded to be written so here it is. Fair warning, read the tags. This is not a happy fic. Based on Hate Me by Blue October. Thank you so so much to @artistic-writer  for kicking me in the ass and encouraging me to post and also looking this over for me as well ❤❤





	Hate Me

_ I have to block out thoughts of you so I don't lose my head _ _   
_ _ They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed _

 

Flickering recollections of blonde hair, musical laughter, and verdant, knowing eyes were strangled off with the pull of the tight elastic around Killian's bicep.  _ Just one more time _ , he thought to himself. If Emma was here, her uncanny ability to detect a lie would have her alarms blaring at that notion. 

 

A bent spoon sat nearby on the counter curled around a tealight candle, the viscous liquid in its shallow reservoir nearly bubbling. He blew out the flame and watched as smoke curled away from the wick and slowly dissipated.

 

He caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror above the sink he stood in front of, eyeliner from his last show still in place but smudged around his blue eyes, making them look even more hollow than usual. His cheekbones stood out sharper than they used to, his beard a little more unkempt, dark hair flopping into his eyes. He could hardly recognize himself. He looked away quickly, unable to bear the sight anymore, and turned back to the task at hand.   
_   
_ _ Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I'm alone _ _   
_ __ Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home

 

Everyone had left hours ago, his bandmates off to the safety of slumber in their own hotel rooms. Like most nights for Killian Jones, sleep wouldn't come. That's how he found himself here. Emma was a thousand miles away and there was nothing to drown out the whisperings in his head of self loathing and inadequacy.

 

He picked up the sterile needle from the counter and uncapped it, flicking the little orange piece of plastic somewhere far into the recesses of nowhere he cared about. Who cared what housekeeping would think when they cleaned this up in the morning? This fix was all that mattered. He did the rest of it to himself, why not this, too?

_   
_ _ There's a burning in my pride, _ _   
_ _ A nervous bleeding in my brain _ _   
_ _ An ounce of peace is all I want for you _ _   
_ __ Will you never call again?

 

He just wanted to hear her voice again. She'd begged him not to go, told him this tour would be the death of them. He'd thrown it back in her face, telling her this was his dream. He told her to come with him and  _ God _ did he wish she would have. Or that he'd never left. Either of those options would have been better than what he was doing now.

 

He shook his head roughly, as if he could physically remove the thoughts rattling around in his brain. His resolve to shut everything out steeled within him as he dipped the sharp tip into the poison in the spoon and pulled back the plunger as he had a thousand times before.

_   
_ _ And will you never say that you love me _ _   
_ _ Just to put it in my face? _ _   
_ _ And will you never try to reach me? _ _   
_ __ It is I that wanted space

 

The amount in the clear plastic column was slowly increasing, despite his shaky hands. He could feel his own heart rate begin to kick up in anticipation, a steady thumping in his chest that was a perfect mirror of the pounding thoughts in his head. When he was satisfied, he turned the needle upside down, watching as air bubbles floated through it like a lava lamp.

 

Images of the last time he was here rose up like bile in his throat. Emma screaming at him and hitting him in the chest, telling him that she loved him when he insisted no one could. She took more than she ever should have from him. And she loved him through it all. It was his own fault it hadn't been enough.

 

He squeezed the plunger on the needle, a dribble of fluid spurting from the top of it and he flicked the side of the plastic tube, making sure every trace of air was gone, along with every trace of the woman that once loved him. 

  
_ Hate me today _ _   
_ _ Hate me tomorrow _ _   
_ _ Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you _ _   
_ _ Hate me in ways _ _   
_ _ Yeah, ways hard to swallow _ _   
_ __ Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you

 

He hoped that she was happy somewhere without him. He wanted her to hate him, but not to forget him and all the pain he caused her. It would be easier for her to hate him and stay away where he couldn't damage her any further that way. She would be better off without him, that was certain. Killian Jones never did anything halfway, and that included being a fuck up. 

 

He never deserved her, and this just proved it. Hooking the needle into the crook of his ring finger, he pulled one end of the elastic tubing up to his mouth and took the other end in his free hand, pulling the ends taut and cutting off his circulation further. His fingers searched out a vein, tapping it lightly when he located one. He didn't even feel the sting of the needle as it pushed past his skin.

_   
_ _ I'm sober now for three whole months, _ _   
_ _ It's one accomplishment that you helped me with _ _   
_ _ The one thing that always tore us apart _ _   
_ __ Is the one thing I won't touch again

 

The three months leading up to where he was now had been the best and worst of his life. He'd been using for years after his brother died, something that had eroded the relationship he built with Emma. He was selfish and impetuous in the depths of his addiction, Emma the only bright spot in his darkness. When he came home one Christmas Eve to find Emma and all her belongings gone, nothing left behind but an apologetic note saying she couldn't watch him kill himself anymore, he knew he had to change.

 

He’d gone to rehab for thirty days. If Killian believed in hell, he imagined it would be like that. He'd never been so sick in his life. Shaking, sweating, clammy skin, throwing up constantly, every square inch of his body aching so deeply he was sure he'd never recover, but none of that touched the pain of his broken heart. He resolved he would never touch drugs again if he could have Emma back.

 

When he came home, it was good. He apologized to Emma, but she was hesitant to believe him. He didn't blame her. He worked hard to earn her trust back and eventually, about two weeks after he left rehab, she came home.

 

In the month or so that followed, he and Emma had been stronger than ever. He felt alive again for the first time in years. Slowly, he let the aches and pains in his soul be soothed by her love instead of quick fixes. Every night he fell asleep with her in his arms, breathing in her scent, he thanked his lucky stars that she'd given him another chance. 

 

It was all gone now as he stumbled back away from the sink. The latex around his arm loosened slightly and allowed the drug to begin its course through his bloodstream as he slumped against the wall and sank to the floor.

_   
_ _ In a sick way I want to thank you _ _   
_ _ For holding my head up late at night _ _   
_ _ While I was busy waging wars on myself, _ _   
_ __ You were trying to stop the fight

 

The effect was instantaneous. He could practically feel his eyes dilating and his muscles going slack. The chemistry of his body began to change and euphoria took the place of aching sadness. The self doubt quieted. 

 

Before he'd gone down the path to redemption, he'd chased this feeling incessantly. Blissful exhilaration filled the empty spaces and sealed the cracks of his broken heart. Killian closed his eyes and let the rolling ecstasy the high brought wash over him in waves. He never wanted to come down. 

 

He knew he would come down eventually, though. That was the downside of this whole arrangement. He couldn't count how many times Emma had held his face above a toilet, trying to wake him up and keeping him from drowning in his own sick. Those moments he wasn't the proudest of, but it never stopped him from seeking more, craving that next high, doing whatever it took to get it. 

 

No matter what the cost. 

 

She was his savior in so many ways. On bad days when it felt like he would suffocate under the weight of his own depression, she was there to help him through it. He lied and stole from her to get a hookup, and she stood by him. She'd pulled him out of himself when he couldn't see anything else but the drugs and crippling sadness. He owed her his life, however worthless and miserable it may have been.

_   
_ _ You never doubted my warped opinions _ _   
_ _ On things like suicidal hate _ _   
_ _ You made me compliment myself _ _   
_ __ When it was way too hard to take

 

There was never a question that Killian Jones hated himself. He was full of cockiness and bravado outwardly, an insatiable flirt, charming, friendly, the total package. Inside, he was a different man. One that wanted to hurt on the outside as much as he did on the inside. 

 

It worked for a time. Before he was getting high, he got into fist fights at the pubs and was increasingly reckless with his body. Between bouts of the adrenaline rushes his injurious endeavors would lead him too, the true sadness settled into his soul. A friend of a friend offered him his first hit at a party celebrating the band's first record deal and Killian was instantly hooked. The heroin filled that void, if only for a short time.

 

Emma understood. She'd never experimented with self harm or drugs the way that he had, or at all, really, but she knew what it was like to have such a hollow sense of devastation in her soul that was near unshakeable some days. They'd lay awake all night some nights, her blonde hair splayed over his bare chest, the tendrils weaving with the dark curls there as they mused over mortality and the fragility of the human form. 

 

But she would always end her musings with a soft smile, telling him that she really did love herself now. She knew she was strong and independent and all the things she had sought to be when she was young. And she would make him say it too.

 

“ _ Aye, love _ ,” he would tell her. “ _ I'm a good person. I just hurt _ .”

 

Now, he chuckled ruefully from his place on the floor at the memory. 

 

“Look at me now,” he said bitterly to the empty room. “The epitome of greatness.”

_   
_ _ So I'll drive so fucking far away _ _   
_ _ That I never cross your mind _ _   
_ _ And do whatever it takes in your heart _ _   
_ __ To leave me behind

 

The best and worst thing about him leaving on this tour was the distance he was able to put between himself and Emma. She warned him if he left, she wouldn't be there when he returned. It was too soon in his recovery for him to be doing this. He knew it was. He thought he could be strong enough to hold it together, though, if he knew Emma was waiting for him when he came back home.

 

His obstinacy and foolhardiness ultimately led him to where he was now. He thought she'd give in, either come with him or wait for him. He was convinced this tour was the right thing for him and his band. All the way right up until Emma was walking out the door again. 

 

He sighed, the plastic needle rolling out of his rapidly numbing fingertips and away from him on the floor. His eyes struggled for focus and his breaths became deeper, more labored, as he fought for consciousness. 

 

This was something he hadn't experienced before. 

_   
_ _ Hate me today _ _   
_ _ Hate me tomorrow _ _   
_ _ Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you _ _   
_ _ Hate me in ways _ _   
_ _ Yeah, ways hard to swallow _ _   
_ __ Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you

 

“...He was here an hour ago, I swear. Maybe he's just taking a shower,” a voice Killian vaguely recognized permeated the thick haze he'd settled into from beyond the closed bathroom door. Robin, his best friend and drummer. His heartbeat began to feel sluggish in his chest as he let his head loll towards the source of the sound.

 

His heart nearly stopped altogether when he heard a response to his friend’s words from another voice he hadn't ever expected to hear again.

 

“It's okay, Robin. I can check,” Emma said and Killian began to panic. Emma was here. His Emma, light of his life, and he was drowning in the throes of darkness. He had to get up, had to cover this, she couldn't see him this way. She just couldn't. His arm twitched uselessly at his side, his body refusing to cooperate with his attempts to right himself and save her from seeing him like this again. 

 

It had never been like this before. Something was very wrong. 

 

His vision began to darken at the edges as the bathroom door clicked open and a horrified shriek filled the air.

 

“Killian, oh my God, no, no,  _ NO! _ ”

_   
_ _ And with a sad heart, I say bye to you and wave _ _   
_ _ Kicking shadows on the street _ _   
_ __ For every mistake that I had made

 

“Killian, open your eyes. Killian,  _ please _ ,” Emma begged. He felt her hands come up to frame his face, her fingers tapping firmly against one of his cheeks. From the last vestiges of his awareness, he somehow summoned the strength to comply. Tears were flowing freely down her face and she gave a wobbly smile as his eyes fluttered open.

 

“Hey, hey, you're okay,” she said, a false brightness to her words, sobs catching on every syllable. “Just stay with me, okay? Don't close your eyes.” It was all he could do to keep his dimming blue eyes fixed on her watery green. The pain and fear that had taken up residence there was almost more than he could bear. He couldn't believe she was actually here with him. 

 

“I need an ambulance at the Atlantic Cove Hotel. My friend, he's… he's overdosed…” Robin said frantically into the phone pressed to his ear. Killian could hear him speak, but it was of little consequence. All that existed for him in that moment was Emma. “Uh, heroin, I believe. His girlfriend is trying to keep him awake… Yes, room 154, please hurry...”

_   
_ _ And like a baby boy, _ _   
_ _ I never was a man _ _   
_ _ Until I saw your  _ **_green*_ ** _ eyes cry, _ _   
_ _ And I held your face in my hand _ _   
_ _ And then I fell down yelling, _ _   
_ __ "make it go away!"

 

“God dammit, Killian, why? What did you do?!” Emma screeched, batting the needle away from where they sat and pulling the rubber tubing off of his arm. She was unable to keep the devastation and hopelessness from her tone as she checked him over, her chest heaving with panicked sobs.

 

He couldn't believe she was here with him. He couldn't believe he was doing this with her again. And this time, he was losing in the worst possible way. He wasn't sure even she could save him now.

 

“You can't fucking leave me, you hear me? You are not allowed to do this,” she told him. He almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of her demands. Instead, a tear tracked down his cheek and buried itself in the overgrown stubble lining his jaw. She seized his hand and pressed it to her own tear stained cheek. “Please don't leave me Killian. You can't. Not now. I can't do this on my own.”

 

A lump rose in his throat, strangling the shallow breaths he was drawing further as he flexed his fingers against her face, just wanting to feel her.

 

“God, make this stop,” he slurred. “Make it go away…”

_   
_ _ Just make her smile come back _ _   
_ _ And shine just like it used to be _ _   
_ _ And then she whispered, _ _   
_ __ "How can you do this to me?"

 

“Ambulance is on its way,” Robin told Emma. His eyes flickered over to Killian's face, wide and full of fear at what was happening to his friend. He still had the phone pressed to his ear, listening to instructions the operator was relaying to him. 

 

Killian was losing the battle, of that he was certain. Each blink of his eyes lasted longer than the last. The words in the room became garbled and far away. Suddenly, he couldn't remember the last time he opened his eyes.

 

“Killian!” Emma was screaming now. “Killian wake up! Don't you fucking dare! Don't you dare!  _ Please! _ ”

 

“Mate!” Robin’s voice was much closer now, and Killian could feel his body pliantly shifting under the force of a large hand shaking his shoulder. “Bloody hell, he's not breathing!”

 

“How could you do this to me?” Emma whispered against his ear.

_   
_ _ Hate me today _ _   
_ _ Hate me tomorrow _ _   
_ _ Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you _ _   
_ _ Hate me in ways _ _   
_ _ Yeah, ways hard to swallow _ _   
_ __ Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you

 

Killian no longer felt anything except for the awareness of movement as consciousness faded. All sensation was gone from his limbs as he was pulled away from the wall and splayed out on the tiled floor. A weight shifted on top of him and pressure built on his chest, a force driving into it over and over and over. Voices blended together and lips sealed over his, foreign air filling his lungs. 

 

Banging sounded out and someone was prying open his eyes, his vision filling with a bright light and faces he didn't recognize. Emma stood nearby in Robin's arms, his embrace seemingly the only thing that was keeping her upright. Her hands were tented over her mouth and her shoulders shook with the force of her muffled cries as the paramedics continued to work on him, resuming the repetitive pressure on his chest. 

 

He wanted to apologize, he wanted to tell Emma to leave, he wanted to never have gone down this road again. He wanted so many things. Sparks in his brain began misfiring and all he could see was Emma. Until he could see nothing at all. 

 

God, he hoped she hated him now. Maybe then she could move on. 

_   
_ _ For you _ _   
_ _ For you _ _   
_ __ For you


End file.
